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July 24th, 2003 - Continued"Dancing Mad." Crono, who had been looking silently up at the stars, beautiful and perfect in the midnight sky, started. "Huh?" the swordsman said, turning around. He hadn't heard anyone approach. The red-clad samurai known as Auron was standing there, one hand inside his coat, the other at his side, right beside the bottle of sake he always carried. He walked up to the younger warrior, who had been sitting by himself on a small grassy hill overlooking the mansion where the competitors were staying. In the distance, the two could see the bulk of the stadium, darkened and imposing. "That's the only way to describe him." Although Crono wasn't positive he knew whom Auron was referring to, he had a fairly good idea. "You mean Kefka?" Auron nodded. "Indeed. You're thinking about that match of yours, aren't you? That's why you weren't at the match between the vampire and Sephiroth." Brushing a lock of bright red hair from his face, Crono shrugged. "You wouldn't need someone like Lucca to tell you who would win that one..." At the mention of Lucca, the normally energetic boy's shoulder seemed to droop slightly. He had been acting like this ever since the bar incident...rather somber, especially for someone like him. "You're right. Sephiroth defeated the nightwalker quite handily. Even immortality was not enough to protect the vampire against someone with as much power and skill as his opponent. And the jester is just as powerful, if not more so. Sephiroth and Kefka are, in all probability, the most dangerous in the tournament." "And I'm going to have to go against both of them if I want to win...I'm going to have to beat Kefka just to survive." Crono shivered, remembering the enigmatic warning that Sephiroth had delivered. He didn't want to kill Kefka. Azala, Ozzie, Zeal...he hadn't wanted to kill any of them. If he could have defeated them without ending their lives, Crono would have done it in an instant. Yet there had been no other choice. And there would be no other choice with Kefka. Auron nodded once more. "That's correct. From what I've seen, Kefka is not the type to spare a defeated opponent. You saw what he did to Pac-Man. He couldn't care less what the spectators want, if the vanquished have any friends or family. Kefka is completely mad. And Sephiroth, while less insane, is just as cold, just as cruel. You missed the match...he had the nightwalker defeated. However, to prove a point to one who was watching, one single being out of the entire stadium...what had been a defeat became a slaughter." The crimson-coated warrior pushed his dark glasses back up onto his face. "However...I did not come here to tell you that you were doomed. I've seen you fight, boy. If there is anyone who can defeat those who are Dancing Mad...you are he. There is something otherworldly about you, Crono. Death has no hold on you. You should not fear it, for you have conquered it. Farewell." With that, the guardian turned to leave. "Wait," Crono said, standing up, puzzled. "Aren't you going to tell me 'not to hold back' against Kefka or something?" Auron slightly inclined his head, peering at the younger swordsman over the rim of his glasses. "That would be the logical thing to do, if I were you. However, I am not you. You have your own story, Crono. No one else but you may write it." And Auron faded away into the darkness, leaving the young warrior rather confused. ---- Max Payne scowled, slamming his shot glass down on the bar, a bit harder than he would've liked. "...fill'r up..." he mumbled, not looking at the bartender. The bearded man did as requested, pouring another shot of some sickly-yellow liquor into the glass. Max took it and downed the liquid in one gulp. 'This stuff tastes like ****. And I can still think. I'm not drunk enough.' However, before he could get another refill, a strong hand fell on his shoulder. "I think my friend here's had enough." Angrily, Max spun around to confront whoever had interrupted his slow decline into alcohol poisoning, nearly falling off his chair in the process. "Whodyu thinkyu ar...?" he slurred. The blue-shirted gangster from Vice City, Tommy Vercetti, was looking down at the ex-cop, shaking his head. "Jesus, Max! What the hell do you think you're doing? You trying to drink yourself to death?" "...better'n lettin' him do it..." the New Yorker muttered. "You shaw him, right? You'n me, Tommy...we ain' like all theshe othersh...we' jus' normal people...hell, in our world, we' unshtoppable...but...here, we dun' havea chansh..." He was interrupted by Tommy Vercetti's powerful hand striking him across the face. Max fell to the soft grass--'when did we get outside...?'--stars shooting across his vision. "Shut up, Max. You're right. We're just normal. You, me, Snake, Raiden, Duke...why the hell do you think we all stuck together? Yeah, sure, Snake's a secret agent, Raiden too. Duke's got his guns, you can do that Bullet-Time ****, and I'm a mob boss. But yeah, when you get down to it, we can't summon gods, blow up planets, or any of that crap." Vercetti shook his head. "But you know what? If you go and drink yourself stupid, yeah, you're gonna die. But I ain't gonna let you do that to yourself, Max. Sure, we fight, and you don't like the mob, least of all the bosses, and I think that cops are just stupid pigs. But there ain't no reason why you gotta give up right here. So you're gonna go back to your room, sleep it off, and watch Snake kick Raiden's ass tomorrow. And then, we're gonna plan. There's gotta be something that can take that silver-haired pretty-boy down. So pull yourself together." Vercetti reached down and pulled the drunken cop to his feet, and the two staggered to the mansion where all the competitors were staying. ---- In the shadows, a lone cigarette burned out. Solid Snake threw the butt to the ground amongst dozens of others, extinguishing it with his heel. Snake was a night owl by nature...yet even if he weren't, he doubted he'd be sleeping tonight. If he were fighting anybody else...Something whispered above him, and the agent closed his eyes. "Can't sleep, Raiden?" The blonde secret agent dropped to the ground in front of his mentor. "How'd you know I was there?" "I'm just that good," replied Snake, lightning another cigarette--his last one. Samus had really cleaned him out..."You ready for tomorrow?" Jack Raiden turned, a somewhat annoyed look on his face. "I'm ready! Snake, you know I'm not just a kid. I'm not just a greenhorn, I know what I'm doing, dammit! I've been training my ass off, you know..." Raiden trailed off. Snake exhaled smoke into the air. "Raiden, I know. I also know that you've fought and defeated people with powers just as strange as some of those in the tournament. Vamp alone...you could go far in this tournament, if you defeated me." "...Snake, don't hold back just because you think it'd be unfair. I beat Solidus, remember? I think I--" The elder secret agent cut him off. "Yes, I know. It's because I know what you can do, and I respect that, that I won't go easy on you. So be prepared for tomorrow." "I am, Snake." "Good. Now get some sleep." Next Entry Back |